Natural Defenses
by LicoriceSnoCone
Summary: “Mirage how could a great hunter like you forget a turbo fox’s natural defenses?” Mirage/Cliffjumper Oneshot. Rated for implied kinkyness.


"You look nice

**AN:** Crazy attempt at kink and smut. I have no excuses, but I'll use one anyway. I wrote this about a year ago.

"You look nice." Mirage accented his compliment with a kiss. He knelt down on his knees to buff out the tiniest of smudges on his partner's arm.

"Uh, Thanks," Cliffjumper replied in a dazed tone. Part of him couldn't believe he agreed to this. Another part of him couldn't believe Mirage had actually asked him, but he accused Mirage of treachery. If there was any way to establish some trust between them, this was definitely it. "You actually did this on Cybertron?"

"Of course," Mirage replied. "But usually there was a big group of us," He added with a chuckle.

"This isn't high class like you try to act. It's barbaric," the minibot spat.

A frustrated sigh escaped the spy's vocalizer. "It's a sport Cliffjumper; you have to understand that. It's a civilized sport with civilized rules."

"What kind of rules?" The mini bot asked.

"Well, I'm not allowed to hurt you. Its all play really."

"That's nice to know," Cliffjumper added sarcastically.

"I have to let you have a head start, but if I didn't we wouldn't have much fun. Once you're caught that's it. You have to submit to me fully. I can do whatever I want with you." Mirage dipped the buffer back into the wax. Slowly he began to polish the minibot's audio horns.

"Mi-Mirage what are you doing?" Cliffjumper reached for the larger mech. His engine rumbled and his frame trembled from the contact.

"Taking care of your audios," the blue mech whispered huskily into Cliffjumper's audios. "Have you ever seen a turbo fox without pretty little audios?"

"No, I guess I haven't...But I've never seen such a huge pervert," Cliffjumper mumbled under his breath.

Mirage finished polishing Cliffjumper's audios and placed the wax and buffer into subspace. "Trust me you'll like it," Mirage spoke, his voice filled with lust. "Ready?"

The minibot nodded yes in response.

"You have five kliks," The racecar spoke, his eyes locked on the minibot. "You'd better get going."

"One"

Cliffjumper shot Mirage a bewildered look before stepping forward. His steps were slow at first. Then gradually his speed increased, and the minibot was sprinting. After running several yards, Cliffjumper transformed and sped towards the cover of the forest.

"Two"

Tonight was the perfect night for a hunt. The cool air drifted across his plating and made Mirage feel anxious. He parted his lip plates slightly, and the air tasted of rain and wax.

The crescent moon shone just enough against his prey's crimson armor. Mirage noticed Cliffjumper looked strangely beautiful running away in surprise and fear.

"Three"

It had been vorns since he'd hunted. The last time he'd done this he'd still been on Cybertron, long before he was an Autobot. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other impatiently. One never forgot the thrill of the hunt.

"Four"

He moved like a turbo fox relying on only instinct. His actions were nervous and fearful, although the minibot would never admit it. He'd never participated in anything like this before. He didn't know how good it felt.

Trees shrouded the minibot's crimson outline. Mirage activated his night vision, and watched Cliffjumper disappear into the woods.

"Five"

Glowing beams enveloped Mirage and rendered him invisible. His silent form progressed across the field. Transformation was impractical. His transformation cogs turned loudly; his engine thundered when he drove, and made too much noise to be useful.

Although he could've easily outwitted the minibot even with the engine revving, it had been so long. He wanted to prolong the experience. He wanted to feel this fear, uncertainty, and lust for as long as possible.

He wanted Cliffjumper.

Mirage ran with an astounding and unmatched grace. Soundlessly, the blue mech cleared the field and entered the forest.

Tall trees, large shrubs, and brush covered the wooded area. Moss covered the ground and cushioned his feet. It wouldn't be hard for a minibot to disappear here.

Mirage turned up the volume of his audios, and he was assaulted by the sounds of the night. An owl hooted from above; in the distance a stream trickled. Somewhere buried under all the noise he could hear the most beautiful melodies of them all. The hum of an engine, the faint panting of exhausted intakes, the thundering sound of his fuel tank, every last sound was music to his audios.

Mirage's internal processors latched onto Cliffjumper's unique energy signal. "There," he whispered turning in the direction his prey hid. Mirage shuddered in anticipation as he advanced; the gap between predator and prey steadily decreasing. Closer and closer until…

Strong, invisible arms wrapped around Cliffjumper's abdomen bringing the minibot to the ground. "You're shaking as if you were scared," a deep, husky voice whispered into the minibot's audios.

Mirage rendered himself visible, flipped Cliffjumper over, and pinioned the minibot's arms above his head.

"Never. You'd like that too much."

Mirage ignored the comment attacking the sensitive cables and wires in Cliffjumper's neck. He nipped and bit at the joint, and the minibot whimpered in pain.

"Sorry," Mirage whispered as Cliffjumper's cries of pain brought him back to reality. He pressed his lips to Cliffjumper's in a silent, awkward apology.

Cliffjumper caught Mirage's lower lip between his dermal, and the metal made a sick, crunching noise as the minibot bit down.

Sensations of pain and shock flooded Mirage's processors. He ran his glossa over his lower lip and tasted bitter, processed energon.

In Mirage's confusion, Cliffjumper turned them over so he was on top. He pressed his full weight against the larger mech in a pitiful attempt to pinion Mirage. "Mirage how could a great hunter like you forget a turbo fox's natural defenses? Turbo foxes have fangs..." He ran his fingers roughly over Mirage's hip strut, so that crimson scratches were left in their wake. "And claws."


End file.
